


Sir Galahad and the Elf Maid Lady Elaina Elenwen Thranduiliel

by silmarlfan1



Category: Arthurian Mythology & Related Fandoms, Le Morte d'Arthur - Thomas Malory, The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: (I don't keep them dead), (Thranduil has a Daughter), Arthurian legend - Freeform, Ascension, Canonical Character Death, English History, F/M, Happy Ending (eventually), Hermaphrodites, Knights - Freeform, Magic, Mpreg, Resurrection, World War I, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 00:19:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silmarlfan1/pseuds/silmarlfan1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the sad and long tale of the peerless Knight Sir Galahad is well known, but not many know this side of his tale. the tale of his sad and lonely youth upon the streets of Guildford after his mother's death, his life in the Monastery beside a kind Father who taught him the Word and saved his life. none know of the tale that bound him in marriage to an Elf-maid Elaina Elenwen; the only daughter of Thranduil. </p><p>needless to say Thranduil would not easily give up the treasure that was his daughter, and Galahad would not give up the woman of his heart. Elaina enjoys the quarrel but in the end the princess always gets what she wants, no matter what her daddy thinks.<br/>This is the life of their youth and marriage. the story of their offspring and the epic Quest for the Holy Grail.<br/>FYI: If you don't know what happens to Galahad at the end of Le Morte D'Arthur, Read it and cry.<br/>Mpreg alert</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Youth of Galahad

**Author's Note:**

> Hi this is part of the very epic Fire of the Great War Universe that I have created. I hope you like and please Review. I hate not being reviewed.

Sir Galahad: the Peerless Knight and the Elf maid Elaina Elenwen

By Silmarlfan1

Warning mentions of Mpreg

Long, long ago in the age of the crusades, there were the Knights of the Round Table. All of these knights were the champions of the order of knighthood, but none was a truer example of a pure and peerless knight than the young Sir Galahad. Born of the Lady Elaine and Sir Lancelot out of wedlock, Sir Galahad's first years were simple and without much of the wealth that he would later acquire in his campaigns and quests on behalf of his king; the head of the Order of the Knights of the Round Table, King Arthur; whose tale has been told throughout the ages long ascending his name into immortality and legend. But this tale is the story of the time of young Galahad's life where he was bereft of home and family, no more than a beggar child on the street. Of this time there is little known about Galahad, but what is known is that he was taken in by a group of kind and pious monks in a monastery. But the time between his mother's death and when the monks took him in was a span of three years; each of which was hard on the young boy because of his birth status and among other things Galahad was born Hermaphrodite, with fully functioning two sets of organs.

There was a time when there were many hermaphrodites, but as Christian's became more ignorant during the dark age and relied on too many false teachers and not the Holy Scriptures the people began to call them witches saying that they practiced black magic and had them hung, drowned, or even burned at the stake alive. Those that were born to poor folk, with very backward practices done by the midwives, were killed upon birth. Many times the midwives drowned them in the water meant to bathe them in calling them the offspring of the devil. Other times they were quietly strangled by midwives that knew that the family would face excommunication and banishment from the community, hoping to spare them the pain; but there were those few that were fanatical in their practice of the religion, and upon seeing the child was hermaphrodite would throw it alive into the fire, ignoring the screams of not only the mother but the dying child as well. Galahad would have fallen to the same fate if it were not for the young Father that was to preside over the child's christening that wanted to witness his birth. This young ideological monk stayed the midwife's hand, stating that if she dares harm the child not only would the Holy Grail never be recovered, but she would damn her soul to all eternity in Hell for the sin of the thoughtless murder of an innocent. Thus Galahad was spared a gruesome early death.

As he grew, Galahad was surrounded by the nuns of the Abbey, and they barely acknowledged him, and the Fathers that traveled to teach. The Father that saved Galahad stayed at the Abbey until he was forced to leave by the death of a fellow man of the cloth and was given the man's old ministry over a town closer to old London. The Father's name was David Kai and he personally sought to Galahad's education in his early years. Galahad, he found, was a bright and attentive learner. He was reading early in his youth and was writing before Father David left for his new ministry. It was his hope to teach the boy to write with a calligraphic hand, and teach him the old Greek and Latin so as he could understand the masses that were put together every Sunday. Galahad floundered without him, and he struggled to keep up without his teacher's patient guidance. But it seemed as though he was beginning to recover when tragedy struck the young boy; his grandfather, Pelles, King of Corbinec of Listenois, had taken ill. Elaine, fearing her father's health was failing, left they young boy alone in the Abbey. This could not have been a worse decision for her son, for indeed the Maimed King was ill and seeming upon his death bed, when Elaine received word though, he was on the mend and recovering. Unfortunately it seemed that fate would not be so kind to the Mother of Galahad, for as soon as she returned to the Abbey she was struck down with the same illness, and never recovered. She perished within the course of a few days leaving Galahad, for all intents and purposes, an orphan.

With no mother to protect him and no champion to keep the wrath of the closed minded from stopping them, a Nun with a wicked heart and a poisoned mind, in the middle of the night, forced the young boy from the safe walls of the Abbey, and into the cold cruel world that would not hesitate to kill him. Thus began the Tragedy of his young years; for Galahad was but five winters old and had no idea of how cruel the world could be.

* * *

The Cruel Years

The times of Galahad's life had been separated into before the Cruel Years and after; for although he wanted to forget them, he could not deny that they left their mark upon his heart, mind, soul, and flesh. Galahad's first months outside the Abbey were alright, the people were kind enough to give him food and sometimes shelter if it was raining and unusually cold. But as time progressed and winter began, Galahad first learned of the bitterness of winter's biting cold and of the suffering he had to endure.

At first he turned to the Abbey but he had changed in the months since he was driven out; his body became wane and thin, he could count his ribs and his face had become gaunt and sharp, trading the smooth soft roundness of youth for the sharp gauntness of hunger, and want. Galahad had never felt hunger before, and it was now a painfully familiar feeling in his sunken stomach; Instead of the nuns and monks helping him they saw a filthy demon to be driven away. One could imagine the utter devastation he felt when they hissed and spat at him driving him off with crosses in one hand and a large broom in the other; the very place where he was raised and grew up was no longer home. Galahad felt very sad and frightened that day. His heart was heavy with sorrow as he left the shadow of the abbey's walls and ventured out into the cold streets of old Guildford.

Galahad knew true hunger then, and true cruelty. It seemed everywhere he went people would push and shove him away. He learned to beg then; sitting on a street corner wrapped in whatever he could find to keep him warm, a small bowl cupped in his little thin hand, stretched out to those that walked by. On occasion a good Christian man of woman would take pity on the starving little boy, begging for some coins for food, and they would drop a small copper coin in the bowl, or if they felt especially guilty they would drop even a small silver one. Galahad would thank them and bless them as tears ran down his face knowing that he would have maybe a warm meal and a bed to sleep on, instead of a cold hard patch of alleyway near the baker's shop. It was warmer there at night, he had found; especially when there was a holiday coming. And fortunately for poor young Galahad, there was a holiday coming; in fact it was the most sacred of holidays: the day of Christ's Birth, or Christ's Mass as it was called then (this was later just called Christmas by some children who could not say it quite right, or to fast, and the name stuck). It was at this time each year that the baker would be working near non-stop until the new-year, baking breads and cakes and cookies and all sorts of Christmas treats. His oven was always on at this time and therefor his back wall behind his oven was hot enough to warm the alley outside. Galahad was grateful for this because it sometimes meant that the baked goods that were miss-shaped and over-baked were thrown out and Galahad was too starving to care. He ate still warm breads that had such large holes in them that the baker would either throw them out or, as of late, give them to Poor little Galahad. The baker was saddened by the sight of the boy; he was dressed in the same rags that had once been his Sunday bests and they hung off his skeletal frame, he no longer had shoes, but instead had wrapped his feet in wool and linen rags to keep them warm and dry. His once beautiful golden hair that flowed in waves around his head was now blackened with dirt and oil from the lack of washing, and hung stringy from his head; and his skin was darkened to brown in some places from where he could not wash. But his eyes stayed bright and clear, and for all the filth that clung to him, the Baker could not deny the poor child was still healthy enough to live; but without food the child would surely die in the cold of winter.

Thus with the baker's help Galahad survived his first winter, but it would not be his last. For as the months flew by and the year began to wane again into winter Galahad had returned to the Baker's alley and found some peace there. Alas, though, it was not to last. Two winters after his first the baker was forced to leave for the city to take over his brother's shop while he recovered from an illness. That year marked Galahad's eighth year of life, and also when he became desperate for food to quell the hunger and pain in his belly. That year Galahad stole an apple from a market stall and ate the whole thing, save the stem. Hunger had finally driven him to theft, as he grew weaker and hungrier, with no baker to give him scraps, and it was not long before he was caught.

* * *

Prison for the Hungry

Galahad was careful but he was caught by a stall keeper and had the boy hauled away as more complaints about his thieving turned up. The young soldier was much bigger than Galahad and was older too, by at least twenty years. The man said that he was to be taken to London to be tried for his crime.

"It would be best to admit your sin, boy," he had said, turning to look at him in the barred wagon being pulled behind him. "The court will be merciful if you admit it and will set you free." Galahad hoped this was true and was looking forward to seeing London, and maybe finding Father David. He hoped that the older man would show more mercy than the Nuns had, and would even continue his studies. When Galahad entered the court the men that stood before him were aged and stone faced, and did not seem the type to be merciful. He briefly glanced back at the soldier with pleading eyes, and the older man's stern face became soft and kind for a moment before Galahad was brought before the Judges.

"This is the young boy who was caught stealing from the market in Guildford, M' Lords," the soldiers said, as he brought Galahad forward. The spectators murmured and whispered to each other of how disgraceful it was, or how much a shame it was for the boy to steal.

"Order!" said the Chief Judge as he pounded his gavel on the table before him, and the crowd calmed, before he turned his gaze to the thin and dirty ghost of a child standing before him and his fellow judges in filthy rags. His hard eyes filled with pity before he cleared his throat and spoke loudly to the room, but mostly to the small child before him. "Well Child, how do you plead to this claim?" he asked. Galahad swallowed a hard lump in his throat before answering the Judge in a rough squeaky voice of a small boy who had not spoken for some time.

"I am Guilty, your honor," he said, "I stole an apple from a stall at the market. I am sorry." The judge looked to his fellows beside him on the bench, who all had looks of shock and pity for the honest child. Such honesty from the child was a rare thing for most young boys, and this one seemed as though he had been on the streets for some time. Conferring with the other judges, turned back to the child with his hands interlaced before him.

"It is refreshing to have someone so young be so honest," he said, " and since this is you first offence we will let you off with a warning, do not let us see you again, child; for the next time we will not be so merciful." And with that he dismissed Galahad and went to the next case with a bang of his gavel. The soldier removed the shackles from his wrists and led Galahad away toward an inn where he could be given a warm bed and a bath, and a hot meal. After a good wash and a warm meal Galahad slept in a soft bed for the first time in years, and he slept long and deeply, not hearing a thing in the room.

Such comforts though were not to last and soon Galahad was forced to the streets again. Begging got him enough to keep the pain from his belly but what little weight he had gained while at the inn was soon gone and with it nearly half again more. Desperation made him forget the kind Judges and his stole a small apple from a stall, but unfortunately he was caught. The soldier took him back to the Judges and again he pleads guilty, but although they held pity in their eyes the law was the law and the boy had been warned. With a heavy heart the chief Judge sentenced him to a year in prison, and the soldier had to drag to stunned and starving child away.

The prison was dark and stale and dirty but it was better than an alley. He was kept chained to the wall of his cell and could walk to the bars of the door and around the room; but before long he was so weak he could barely stand from his bed. His jailor gave him food to eat but what little good food there was taken by the rats before Galahad could eat any of it. It was nine months into his sentence, when the jailor went to the cell to check up on the boy and found him on the bed of straw on the floor. He was not moving but the man could see his chest rise with each breath. The man entered the cell and set an ear to the boy's chest, his hearing was poor but he could make out a faint and slow beating of a heart; but this heart was too slow and weak. The jailor sent for a priest to give him last rights, as he watched over the boy on his death bed. Galahad was dying.

But there was still hope; for the priest that the jailor sent for was Father David Kai, who ran the London Monastery that was closest to the jail. As Father David entered the cell he smiled at the man who blocked his view of the dying boy, and when the man moved he gave Father David a clear view of Galahad. Father David was so stunned at seeing Galahad before him that he dropped his chalice that was to be filled with water. Forgetting the cup he quickly knelt beside the boy and bent an ear to listen to his heart. It was faint but it was there. Father David demanded that the shackles be removed and the jailor did just that. Father David picked up his chalice and poured the holy water in it. Pressing it to Galahad's lips, he gently coaxed the boy to drink. The water helped him wake, and Galahad opened his eyes and saw Father David kneeling beside him smiling sadly but hopeful that he would pull through.

"David," Galahad rasped, and Father David hushed him and bade him not speak. When Galahad had drunk all the water, Father David gathered him in his arms. He weighed nearly nothing and that frightened Father David; for he knew that Galahad could die easily by being so slight and had seen it happen before. Father David rose up and carried Galahad back to his carriage to take him back to the Monastery and hopefully, with some hard work, nurse the poor boy back to health. And as soon as he was back in the Monastery, Father David had the Nuns pull a spare bed into his room so he could keep an eye on him as Galahad recovered. After he settled the boy on the bed and spooned fed him a bowl of thin but rich soup, he sat down at his desk and wrote a missive to the Abbey where Galahad was living before he left, and another letter to the bishop of Glastonbury, to inform him of the horrendous atrocity that had been done to the little boy he had taught himself. He ran a hand over his forehead and down his face with a heavy sigh. Galahad was safe for now, and as long as he ate well and regularly he would gain weight and strength, but it would still be a long road ahead before that happened.

* * *

Safe Haven in the Monastery

In the monastery Galahad was given the care in needed to grow strong and wise. Father David made it his personal mission to ensure that Galahad was given a good life and education. Their lessons picked up where they had left off and Galahad began to flourish under his care as a rose does under the care of a gentle and patient gardener. Galahad was taught to read and write in Ancient Greek, in Latin, as well as Hebrew and some Aramaic, but he said he spoke it better than he wrote it. Under David's kind and patient care he began translating old texts into common English. His calligraphy was near perfect when he reached the age of thirteen, and it was upon the day celebrating his birth he learned what had happened to the Abbey where he had once lived. Father David made a personal crusade to ensure justice for the young boy, in doing so many of the Nuns and Fathers were removed from their station. Through it all Galahad recovered under David's kindness, but the years of cruelty left their mark on the fledgling knight: scars from the shackles on his wrists, and a small brand on his left hip and forearm branding him forever as a thief. Galahad never wore cloth tunics without long-sleeved shirts under them, and even then he had taken to wearing vambraces to further hide the scars. Galahad never forgot how cruel Man could be to a starving child, a homeless child, an orphaned child; and he never wanted to feel that way again. So Galahad took a solemn oath that he would never let his heart turn to stone before someone in need, and he vowed that he would follow Christ's example of what all of Men should be like; kind, compassionate, selfless, merciful, caring, and loving to those in need. He swore to be virtuous, and would take the oath of abstinence if need be, so he would not let his heart be turned by the whims of the flesh. But it never came to that; for David told Galahad, that although it was a noble thing to take a vow of chastity, one day he might find himself in love, and it would be an unrequited love if he remained virgin his whole life. So Galahad never took the monk's oath but he still swore he would never lay with another until he found himself in love and wed.

Virtue was Galahad's purpose for a long time. And he was determined to have the Word of the Lord with him and near his heart at all times to sway it from the evil of Men. So with the help of Father David, Galahad went about translating a Bible into English, and into a small leather bound book that he could carry in his pocket over his heart. It took him nearly two years before he was finished, but when it was, the book was simple, with no illumination, but with careful calligraphy and small footnotes on as many passages as he was taught. The leather was a stained red, with delicate tooling and upon its cover Galahad had inscribed " _ **The Holy Scriptures of the Bible**_ ", and had inlayed the tooled inscription with gold-leaf.

Galahad had learned much from his time with Father David, at the monastery, but his time there was coming to an end. Galahad was sixteen when he met his father Sir Lancelot, and needless to say none was more stunned to see him than Lancelot. The boy was his living image, with but a few features taken from his mother, such as his warm smile and his bright and gentle eyes. Of all Galahad's features it was his Lavender gray eyes that were his most striking feature; they seemed to shine with an inner light and were in such contrast to his tanned complexion and his honey colored hair with gold highlights. Lancelot knew in this moment that Galahad was his son, and as such named him so, and made Galahad his heir.

To be continued…

AN/: hope you like this, I will try to get into more detail later. This is all coming off the top of my head. it is part of  _the Fire of the Great War_  Universe that I have made. This will all make more sense later when I have fleshed out the next part.


	2. The Lady Elaina Elenwen

Part 2  
The Lady Elaina Elenwen  
The Lady Elaina Elenwen was Thranduil’s daughter; in fact she was his only daughter. She was the very image of her mother’s beauty and grace. For years Thranduil and his beloved wife, Miriel, had only their beloved Legolas; their little Greenleaf, but Miriel desired a girl child to call her own. A daughter she could teach her magic and how to sew and bake. Thranduil was reluctant to do so, for Legolas’ birth was difficult and had taken its toll on his beloved wife; he dreaded to think what a second child would do to her. But Miriel was stubborn and she usually was able to get her way. Thranduil would sidestep his reasons for not wanting another child stating that it was too soon to have another, or that they should wait until Legolas was old enough to understand. But stubborn Miriel found out his reasons and to say that she was furious was an understatement. The moment Thranduil said that she was too frail to have another child; she went pale as death before her face reddened in fury. Thranduil tried to backtrack and apologize but was cut short when the throne room filled with the sound of a loud crack as she struck him hard across the face. Before Thranduil knew what had happened he had a large red mark on his cheek and his wife had stormed away from his sight. Legolas, who was well past his majority and already a seasoned warrior, spotted his mother’s approach and went to inquire as to what was wrong. Knowing that his mother had a temper to match a Feanarion he called out first.  
“Naneth?” he asked as she stormed by, “Is something wrong?” at his words she halted and turned to her only child with a bland smile on her normally bright face.  
“No, my son,” she said, “your father and I just had a… disagreement. That is all.” Legolas gulped hard, knowing that she meant more than a “disagreement” and watched her turn. But then she paused before turning back. “In fact, would you inform his royal highness that he will be sleeping in his study tonight? I have some sewing that needs done, and I don’t want him to bother me.” Legolas nodded absently as he watched his mother turn and walk towards the royal quarters to more than likely remove some bedding for Thranduil’s night on the couch. Legolas turned to find his father only to find him coming towards him. Thranduil spotted his son and paused to speak with him.  
“Has your mother been by?” he asked.  
“Yes, and she looked … upset. Care to tell me what is wrong, adar?” Legolas asked in turn.  
“Your mother and I had a … disagreement on a subject of sensitive nature, and I am afraid that it caused her to become …displeased with me.” Legolas rolled his eyes, ever the diplomat, even around him.  
“Mother wanted me to inform you that you will be spending tonight in your study,” Legolas said as Thranduil began towards his quarters. His shoulders tensed for a moment before they sagged and he let out a sigh. “She looked more than displeased, ada,” Legolas said as he came to stand beside his sire. “Whatever it is she wants it might be best to give it to her, lest you spend the rest of your nights in your study.” Thranduil looked up sharply to reprimand his son but the young elf was already walking away.  
“Perhaps I should,” he said to himself with a sigh. “It will be less headaches for all involved, but perhaps more heartache.” Legolas raised an eyebrow in confusion but Thranduil was already walking away. The young elf prince shook his golden head before heading towards his own quarters to retrieve his bow and daggers before he headed for the training grounds. He wanted to be far away from his father and mother if there was going to be another argument, preferably somewhere he could practice his skills.  
Needless to say Thranduil spent the night in the proverbial dog house; that night and for several nights after that. Finally Thranduil’s lack of proper sleep got him to go to his wife and concede that perhaps they could have another child. His wife’s overwhelming joy was well worth the blow his pride had taken in admitting defeat. It did not take very long before the servants began to gossip and waggle their tongues that the king and queen were trying to have a second child. Word spread like a wild fire through the household before reaching the ears of the soldiers and guards. Eventually word came to Legolas’ ears of the rumor that his parents were trying to have a child. For a while Legolas dismissed this rumor as nothing but gossip, until after a long training session he went to his chambers to change for dinner with his family. His chamber maid was in an abnormally cheery mood, when she entered and gave him his robe. Legolas was confused by her behavior and raised an eyebrow as she took his dirty clothes humming a cheerful tune all the time. When she had left Legolas shook his head and headed for the private dining hall where he would have a peaceful supper with his mother and father for the first time in weeks.  
Upon entering the dining hall he found his mother practically glowing as she sat to the left of her husband, her hand in his as she pressed closely to his side. Again Legolas raised his eyebrow before taking his seat at Thranduil’s right side. Dinner was a quiet but warm affair, but the silence was deafening; and soon Legolas could no longer take it.  
“Is there something that I should know?” he asked causing his parents took look at each other before Miriel looked back at her son with a warm smile.  
“What on earth makes you say that, my little leaf?” she says bringing a blush from the prince; her smile still warm, as she looks to her husband asking. Thranduil seems to understand her silent question, and he gives her a subtle nod. Miriel beams back at her son, who is giving both of his parents a look that seems to say ‘have you both gone nuts’ by the looks and gestures he was observing. “Actually, Legolas, your adar and I have something we would like to tell you.” Her gaze turns to Thranduil and her eyebrows rise and Thranduil gets the hint and smiles; taking his wife’s hand in his own.  
“It’s not something bad I hope.” Legolas asks, and his mother shakes her head giving a silent no. “Alright, then what is it?” he asks. Thranduil clears his throat before giving his son a very happy smile.  
“Your mother and I are going to have a new member added to our family,” he said while giving his wife a smile. Legolas seemed confused and Miriel rolled her eyes.  
“Oh, for heaven sakes, Thranduil, be blunt,” she said in exasperation giving her husband a light smack to his arm before turning her smile on her confused son. “What your father means to say is… we’re going to have a baby!” To say that Legolas was shocked was an understatement’ his jaw had dropped and he had dropped the fork that was held in his grip. It clattered on his plate as his grip slackened in his shock. At first he did not know what to think before his mind overcame the shock to realize he was going to become a brother. A slow smile spread across his face, his hidden dimples coming out in full force. His blue eyes sparkled as he stood and went to his mother’s side. He knelt beside her between his father and mother, and looked up at his mother with bright happy eyes and smile.  
“Truly?” he asked and Miriel nodded. Legolas began to laugh and quickly wrapped his arms around his mother’s middle. Thranduil released a relieved sigh and smiled himself, standing to wrap his own arms around his son and wife.  
Soon the news had spread throughout the whole of the woodland realm. Congratulations were sent from the nobles to the king and his family. Soon thereafter came congratulations from Elrond of Rivendell, and Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien, and although Thranduil despised his Noldorian kin, he acquiesced to his wife’s wish that Elrond help with the delivery. Legolas, who was normally a quiet and reserved elf, became quite cheery and was seen smiling almost all the time. He spent what little free time he had with his mother helping her with her sewing and needle work.  
Many months passed and with them the Queen of Mirkwood became rounder and heavier with child. Miriel could no longer walk the grand halls with her husband as was her want in days passed, at least not without her ankles and legs swelling and her feet aching. But she was contented with sitting in her new babe’s nursery sewing and embroidering a new blanket and gown. The gown was for the presentation ceremony to be given a week after the babe’s birth, in front of the entire royal court. She spent hours embroidering the gown and hours even more in knitting the lace she stitched on the hem and sleeves. Thranduil was sure that the child was to be a boy but Miriel thought otherwise, but it mattered not; Thranduil was happy to be having another child. Soon the time was near for the child’s birth and the whole royal household was awaiting the event with excitement and nervousness. Elrond was to arrive within hours and Thranduil had taken to sitting in his room with his wife in his favorite chair by the hearth. His leg bounced up and down, his hands gripped the arms of the chair in a vice-like state. Though he tried to look calm his wife could see that he was anything but, and was chuckling to herself from her own chair with the last bits of the blanket being finished in her lap. Legolas was sitting on the floor beside his mother fletching some new arrows. He was given leave from his duties for the next few days in light of the fact that his mother was to give birth soon.   
A knock came to the door just as Miriel let out a long groan. Legolas leapt to his feet to assist his mother while Thranduil went to the door. It was Elrond, and for once Thranduil was glad to see the dark haired Elda. Legolas helped his mother to the bed and the fetched his new arrows before kissing his mother’s cheek and leaving the room. Thranduil went to his wife’s side just as a powerful contraction racked her frame. Elrond placed his bag on the table next to the bed, and went to work.  
It was hours later in the wee small hours of the morning when Legolas was approached by Elrond and Thranduil; the latter of which had a beaming smile on his face. Legolas had taken his arrows to the archery range to practice and get his mind off his mother’s state. This was where they found him, turning target dummies into pincushions. Elrond smiled in a calm and reassuring way before speaking.  
“Congratulations, young Greenleaf,” he said, “you have a little sister.”  
________________________________________  
The Happy Years  
Legolas could not be more elated. He doted and loved his little sister, who grew each day into a more beautiful lady than any in the Woodland Realm. She had the same flaxen gold hair as her brother and father, but she had her mother’s dark violet eyes instead of the azure blue of her father. Her hair was soft like silk and after it was cleaned and dried after her birth it was a bundle of golden curls. As she grew older her hair darkened into a richer honey color but it still retained the flaxen highlights giving it a look as though her hair was made from spun gold thread and undyed spider silk. It retained its curls and if cut short would bounce in ringlets around her face, but it was difficult to tame when it was so short; her curls would knot and tangle and fray the ends, so Thranduil decided that they would let it grow long and braid it at night to prevent the pain of brushing it in the mornings. And long did it grow! As she approached her coming of age party her hair was down to the back of her knees, and Miriel made the decision to have her hair done up in loose braids and intricate patterns. They named her Elaina Elenwen, and Thranduil called her his little Mire, his little jewel.  
Thranduil loved his daughter above all else and would do anything for her happiness. For each begetting day party he would commission a fine gown for her to wear; and this year he wanted something extra special. Thranduil had a great wealth in uncut stones, gems, and gold that he had mined out of the tunnels of his home, and although he had good smiths and craftsmen they had not the skill to cut and shape the stones into fine gems. He went to the dwarves of the Lonely Mountain for this task, and they did their task well; for the dwarves of Erebor could shape the roughest of stones into the finest of gems. With each year and new gift for his daughter the dwarves grew curious as to what the Elven king needed all the gems and fine crafted jewelry for. Well I must say they soon got their answer. Elaina desperately wanted to see the world outside the forest and she begged her father to let her come to Erebor the next time he left. Thranduil could deny her nothing and crumbled under her pleading gaze. Upon hearing his beloved sister was going to the dwarf kingdom Legolas immediately volunteered to go as a guard. Thranduil was reluctant to let both of his children go but his wife insisted that they could use a change of scenery and opted to stay behind.   
The young Princess was in awe of everything she saw on the journey to the mountain, and upon arrival in the city of Dale begged her father to let her explore for a while before they headed for the mountain. Thranduil consented and sent Legolas to guard his little sister while she explored the markets. Elaina dragged her brother form stall to stall gazing in awe at the fine wealth of objects to be seen: fine silks, and beautiful dresses, along with rare sweets and sugary treats. Legolas knew of his sister’s love of candied sweets especially fruit candies, and bought her a small bag of candies with the coins he had with him. Elaina may have bruised his ribs with the force of her hug but the smile on her face and her moans of pleasure made the dull ache lessen.   
Upon leaving the Markets of Dale, the Elves headed for the mountain. The path was long but only took a few hours by way of horses, and soon they were being welcomed at the gates of Erebor. Never in her short life had Elaina seen such towering statues, and she stared up at them as they passed her mouth agape in wonderment. A single look from her brother and father made her mouth snap shut but her eyes were still wide and her mouth smiling as they passed through the front gate. The green marble stone was smooth and polished beneath her shoes and she found herself wondering what it would be like to take them off and go sliding in her stockings. She giggled and smiled at the thought of her father and brother’s looks of horror at her very undignified and royal manner. She could not help but study the stone around her spotting the thin gold veins that wound through the rock like little streams in forests of green. The high ceilings were familiar but the shape of the columns was so very different from the twisting and natural looking ones from her kingdom, but they were no less mesmerizing in their height and carving.  
While she was musing and gazing in wonder at the beauty all around, she followed her father and brother right to the throne of King Thror and his family; his son seated to his left and his grandson to his right. Thranduil gave a slight bow to his head to acknowledge the dwarf king and she immediately found herself being gazed upon by the aging king. Thranduil saw this and quickly introduced his young daughter.  
“My lord, King Thror,” he said, and motioned Elaina forward. “This is Elaina, my youngest child,” he said and smiled brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear, “and my only daughter.” Elaina smiled in the only way she knew how and gave a deep curtsy to the King and his family. This seemed to please the king for he sat a little prouder in his throne a smug smile on his face.  
“I am pleased to make you acquaintance, my lord,” She said and a few of the dwarves around the king murmured at the sweet and lyrical sound of her voice. She turned to the youngest of the dwarves, sending him a flirty smile as he smiled back.  
“I am Prince Thorin, and it is an honor to meet such a fine and poised young lady,” Thorin said as he stood and kissed Elaina’s hand, and earned a muffled snort form Legolas as he smothered a smile and bark of laughter. Thorin looked curiously back at the elf prince who seemed to be struggling to school his face before he received a glare as cold as the Grinding Ice from his sister. Elaina made a mental note to make him pay for that snort later before they left. She smiled in the sickly sweet way that only a sister out for revenge could and introduced her brother.  
“Have you met Legolas, my brother,” she asked, “as heirs to the throne I would think you both would have a thing or two in common like learning when and when not to insult your sister.” Legolas gulped as a blush crept across his cheeks, and a smug grin came on her lips.  
Thorin simply laughed and shook his head.  
“Aye, indeed I do, for I too have a little sister,” he said earning a curious look from Legolas. “And I know it is very unwise to make her feel slighted.” Legolas turned his gaze to Thranduil pleadingly and got only a raised eyebrow and a bland look saying ‘you earned it, now live with it.’ Elaina simply laughed before turning to her father for permission to go exploring. Thranduil sighed and gave her a nod of consent. Elaina squealed with joy and launched herself at her father pulling him into a bruising hug. Caught off guard he stumbled for a moment before placing a gentle kiss to her temple.  
“Be safe,” he whispered in her ear, before she let him go and bolted out of the hall, her dress flowing behind her along with her hair in a river of honey gold, and rich blue silks. Thranduil shook his head before locking his eyes with Legolas and nodding his head in the direction his sister had flown off to. Legolas smiled and took off in a brisk walk following after his sister’s laughter.  
Legolas found her in a crafting hall gazing in wonder as she observed a dwarf sorting jewels to be set into the facets of a finely crafted mithril necklace. She was so absorbed in what the dwarf woman was telling her about her craft that she didn’t hear Legolas come up behind her. Legolas smiled with his hands on his hips before he deemed it safe to announce his presence with a very sharp whistle. Elaina squeaked and the Dwarf woman started but didn’t drop the gem in her grasp. Elaina looked back at her brother with a sour look, to which Legolas gave an innocent smile. Rolling her eyes Elaina went back to watching the Jeweler work.  
It was nearly supper time when Legolas finally dragged his sister away from the Jeweler and towards the dining hall; all the while, Elaina chatted his ear off about how she wished she could craft something so beautiful. Dinner was quiet but mixed with small talk about trade and politics which Legolas never liked. When Thranduil asked Elaina what she had done while exploring, it was as if a dam had burst and a flood of words and descriptions flowed out of her mouth just like water. She told him of the crafting hall and the jeweler and about the several younger dwarves that tried to flirt with her only for them to be politely let down. Finally she let it be known that she had a desire to craft and do something other than weave cloth and embroider fabric, and Thranduil finally consented to let her mother teach her magic when she returned to Mirkwood. The rest of their stay was brief as Thranduil got the gift for his daughter’s begetting day and a few new things for his wife.

Magic  
The magic’s of Miriel were great and powerful, some even said they were on par with the magic of Melian the Maia wife of Elu Thingol. She could craft powerful illusions and impart her will upon nature to grow in her gardens as she pleased, she even enchanted the great river, by which the elven road had to crossover before turning towards the kingdom’s great gates, to put all those that drank of its water or even touched it to fall into a deep enchanted sleep. It was only natural for Miriel’s daughter to have inherited her gift for magic. Even Thranduil, who had only the power to create glamour’s to hide his battle scars, had magic within him. Elaina was even more gifted than her father and mother combined, and her rapid ability to perform more complex spells spoke that very clearly. Legolas had only the minor abilities of his father but to a greater degree, but even he was astounded by her skill.   
However it soon became apparent that her skill with magic was not the only thing she was gifted with. Visions began to plague the young princess, first as vivid dreams or nightmares, then as full-on- headache-inducing waking visions that would cripple the poor girl whenever they came upon her. Sometimes they were absolutely frightful, about the horrendous things lurking in the night that gave her night-terrors for days, and other days the visions were sweet and tender, leaving her with sweet smiles or joyful tears. Legolas had his own visions but none to the vividness of his sister. Only Elrond could say that he had visions greater than her, and as such when the visions became so bad that they were giving her nosebleeds and migraines for hours, Thranduil again swallowed his pride and asked Elrond for help.  
The Lord of Imladris came to the woodland realm and for a brief time tutored the young princess to control her Foresight and control the visions so they no longer plagued her every moment. His schooling gave her the confidence to look into the future instead of the future grabbing her for a ride. The visions she saw left her mind whirling and her heart aching sometimes and others they filled her with terror.  
The time came at last for Elrond to leave but as he was mounting his horse, Elaina went to him for counsel for her latest vision.   
“Tell me what you have seen, child?” he asked from a top his horse. Elaina worried her lip before she looked up at him.  
“I saw a Man,” she said, “his hair was like gold and honey, his brow was noble and his face kind. He had lavender-gray eyes that were filled with a kindness born from suffering and sorrow. He wore armor like a Gondoran and carried a shield of white with a symbol of a red cross upon it. He carried a great lance upon his horse, and he travels with two others. He searches for something, Lord Elrond. Something Hallowed, and old; a chalice, I think. A small cup, simple, and unadorned but, it is important, Elrond, and he quests for it, to guard it from evil.” Elrond nodded as he took in the knowledge, his brows furrowed in thought. Elaina seemed pensive for a moment before revelation came over her. “It is here, on Arda. Someone brought it here but it is no longer in the hands of good. Elrond, it is a powerful relic.” Elrond raised his eyebrows and nodded.  
“If they come, I think they will arrive in Imladris first,” he answered. “I will give them counsel and send them towards their goal.” Elaina sighed in relief before bidding him farewell. 

 

Birthday parties and destined meetings  
Finally the time had come for the big Begetting day party. Thranduil was frantic in his attempt to keep the gift a secret. He hid it in his private study as a last resort, as Elaina had found almost all of his previous hiding places. The gift was a finely jeweled necklace and circlet with matching bracelets and rings of mithril and white diamonds and pale sapphires; each one crafted so finely that they shined like stars in their mithril settings. Thranduil loved the work so much he sent the rest of the gems he had to be fashioned in a similar way for a gift for his wife. It would be done in time for their anniversary, but Thranduil knew Thror all too well and had a second gift made with already shaped stones by his own craftsmen.  
Invitations were sent out to all kingdoms, and had begun to receive guests the day before. Thror had sent his grandson, Thorin, and his chief counselor, Balin as representatives of Erebor with fine gifts of their own for the princess. A representative from Lothlorien was to arrive before the party, and Elrond and his Sons were there to gift and celebrate with the woodland realm. A Man from Gondor had come and left after giving his gift on behalf of the stewards and the chieftain of the Dúnedain came himself to honor the princess. Thranduil felt a twinge of sadness that there were no other elven kingdoms to honor his daughter. Legolas had no such worries, as he was in wonder at all the people coming to his home, the Men of the North in particular fascinated him but he kept himself calm and relaxed. The party was as grand as any celebration in the woodland realm, the great feasting halls decked in splendor with bright colored banners, even Feanarion lamps were set up all around the main hall, just Thranduil’s way of showing his wealth and history. The food was abundant and full or rare delicacies and of course Elaina’s favorite foods. Sweet fruits from all over Middle Earth found their way onto the tables, and some more exotic cuisines like rare spices mixed with venison and Oliphant meat; candied fruits and sweets were among the most numerous in the desserts and baked vegetables of all kinds littered the food tables, many of them smothered in cream sauces.   
Thror’s representatives were enjoying the meats and sweets, and even the vegetables were readily consumed by the dwarves. The Dúnedain chief ate politely but no one bothered him if it seemed his plate was overly full. Elrond and his sons were entertaining his daughter with jokes and tales of the north while indulging in some exotic foods. By the time the party from Lorien arrived the celebration was in full swing, and Thranduil was imbibing in his Dorwinion wine enough that he was quite happy. Lady Galadriel was among the group and came up to the king and paid her respects before greeting the Princess.   
“Suilad, Hiril Elaina, you grow more radiant with each passing moon,” the White Lady said, causing Elaina to blush heavily. Elaina smiled as Arwen came forward and kissed her cheeks in greeting, before going to see her father and brothers. Galadriel went to settle in and speak with her relations as a captain placed the gift on the table with the others. Dozens of gifts littered the table ranging in size from large to small, long to flat; and Elaina was just itching to open each and every one.   
Hours passed swiftly for the partygoers and food was consumed greatly; drinking was imbibed and many of the guests were happily buzzed. Finally the King motioned to his son to bring in the big cake. Legolas went with an easy smile, walking into the kitchen to fetch the baker and the big cake. The cake was a multi-layered tower of pale pink and gold fondant frosting and buttercream flowers and leaves, and the very top was a replica of the famed lost city of Gondolin. Legolas smiled as the baker enlisted his help in bringing the cake out to the guests. As soon as the cake was in the hall a wondrous cry and awe filled gasps went up in clusters around the room. Elaina smiled wide and leapt up and squeezed her father in a tight hug.   
“Thank you, Ada,” she said, “it is wonderful.” Thranduil smiled and kissed her hair.  
“Only the best for you, my dear.” He answered with a smile.  
Elaina blew out the candles on the cake top and was handed the small top layer for herself as the baker cut up the beautiful cake for the rest of the guests to eat. Just as Elaina was about to take a bite, a gate guard interrupted their meal.  
“My lord, forgive me,” he said kneeling before the family. “There is a Man at the gate with three companions asking passage within for rest and supplies.” The guard looked up and found Thranduil stone faced, and his daughter ashen.  
“Ada,” she said to him, “let them enter,” Thranduil looked at his daughter, and found a fey light in her eyes; a glimpse of foresight in her gaze that he knew too well.  
“Very well,” he said and the guard rose to his feet. “Bring him and his companions here. It is my daughters begetting day and I am feeling lenient to travelers; besides I won’t have them think that I am not a good host.” The guard nodded, stood in salute and left the hall. Legolas moved to follow but was stopped by Thranduil’s hand on his arm. Moments later the guard re-entered the hall with the Men following. Elaina felt her breath stolen from her as she saw the young man’s face. This was the Man from her visions, and now that she got a better look at him she found him not a Man at all but one of the Half-elven of Numenorian descent. His hair seemed brighter in the Feanarion lamps and his eyes filled with Eldar light. A holy light surrounded his face and he held himself like a prince, despite his travel worn appearance. His companions were similar but only one could be said to have Numenorian blood, and by the looks of his features he was the younger man’s father.  
The young man came forward and knelt before the woodland king before speaking.  
“God’s blessings be upon you, Great Elven King, and to you family,” he said. His voice filled the room with a soft warm blessing. His voice was soft but firm and richly toned with a slight accent that the other guests could not name. “On behalf of my fellow traveler, I thank you for your hospitality.” Thranduil smiled at the proper manners and kind words.  
“It was only fitting to let you in,” he said and motioned the men to rise. “I have guests this eve for my daughter’s begetting day and it would show great ill upon me if I were to turn you away.” The young man stood and smiled, showing off a set of perfectly straight, white teeth and dimpled cheeks. Thranduil was shocked to see the high elven features so strong in his form as well as his Numenorian frame; tall, lean in the waist, broad in the shoulders and chest muscular arms and legs, all pointing to a nobleman’s heritage but the haggard appearance and the lean almost gaunt face spoke to him being a holy man. But underneath all the armor and leather it was hard to tell. “Please, show these men to some rooms so that they may change into more appropriate garb,” Thranduil addressed his butler; who nodded and lead them off to redress.  
“Well, that was interesting,” Miriel said as Thranduil sat down again. The elf king smiled ruefully and looked to his daughter and found a look on her face he did not like: affection.   
It did not take them very long to change and reenter the hall, and in that time Thranduil ordered four new plates to be filled with the leftover food from the dinner feast. The four looked much changed without their heavy armor, especially the young one. He was thinner than Thranduil thought but still well built and strong, his hair was neatly brushed away from his washed face and his clothes, although simple, were very fine quality. He stood tall as he walked into the hall before bowing deeply to the king and his family and taking his seat. The four men took a beaded neckless around their necks in their clasped hands and bowed their heads in reverence. The youngest spoke softly but clearly (at least to elven hearing) invoking some blessing over the food.   
“Almighty Lord, who has favored us, we beseech thee in our prayer. Bless this meal to our bodies to give us the strength to do thy good work. We thank you for the hospitality of our hosts and we ask that thy blessings be bestowed upon them and their guests, bring them health prosperity and good fortune in the days to come. We ask these things in the name of Thy Son, The Christ and Savior or Mankind, Amen.” And with that the men began to eat. They ate slowly but with great enjoyment, savoring the meal. The youngest looked up to the king after tasting a particularly fine morsel. “What is this, my lord? It is very good.” Thranduil smiled and looked at the food gestured to.  
“That would be roasted Oliphant meat with spices and a caramel glaze, with carrots and potatoes,” Thranduil answered. “I have made it a rule to know the names of my guests, so that I may properly address them. I would like to know your names, if you will?” At this question the man looked embarrassed before bowing his head.  
“These are my companions, Sir Perceval,” he gestured to his left, “Sir Bors,” to his right, “and my father, Sir Lancelot DuLake. I am Sir Galahad DuLake, your highness.” Thranduil smiled at the names and gestured to his wife.  
“This is my wife, Miriel,” then to his son, “my eldest and only son, Legolas Greenleaf, and this,” he said with pride as he placed a hand on his daughter’s shoulder, “is my daughter Elaina Elenwen. It is her begetting day today, and we are celebrating quite merrily and hope that you will join in the festivities.” Galahad nodded, before he looked pensive and thoughtful before he pulled a well-loved hand bound book from his pocket above his left breast.  
“Then as a gift to the lady, I give you the only think I have of value,” he said as he handed the book to the princess. Elaina smiled sweetly as she took it and opened it. Although she could not read it the calligraphy was stunning and the illumination was incredibly skillful. The figures were not stylized but accurate and beautifully drawn.   
“I cannot keep this. You made it!” she said, “and I cannot read it.” Elaina moved to hand it back. Galahad smiled.  
“I can make you one that you can, if you wish, dear lady,” he asked as he stayed her hand with his own taking her hand and wrapping it around the small book. Elaina looked at her hands and then his face with a warm and kind smile. Thranduil knew that look well, for his wife gave him the same one when they met: Elaina was in love.   
Do not fear this joining, Thranduil, came a voice to his mind. This meeting was destined to happen as is their love, embrace it or lose her forever. Thranduil’s temper cooled with Galadriel’s wisdom but his heart filled with sorrow. Destined or not, Thranduil’s daughter had fallen for a Man and there was naught he could do to stop it. All he could do was give them his blessing and hope that the choice of the Eldar was not made for the man and he might keep his daughter and not lose her.  
Galahad on the other hand, felt only love and affection for the fair princess. Her beauty enchanting him into her spell, and although he swore to chastity until his Quest was done, he hoped that God would forgive him his love, and bless their union.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I considered a cliffhanger but hadn’t the heart to do it. don’t know what to do next. I have a general idea for later but the now, not so much. Reviews are my muse, give us a drop.


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